sky

I am permitted to travel in the corridor between sky and heather" from the poem "Beyond the Beacon" in TerraAffirmative

Your name. That__ all I want._ I debate on whether or not I should explain to him that my name isn't going to help him in his stalking endeavours.

Glancing in through the open door to Xav__ room, I saw Zed stretched out on the queen mattress, his arm hugging a pillow as if he felt Sky__ absence at his side.

It's crap that you're letting on bad year determine your fate for the rest of your life.

Karen shuts the back door and turns to me. __ou know I trust you, but please___on__ get pregnant,_ I interrupt. __ know, I know. You__e been saying that every time you leave for the past two years. I__ not getting pregnant, Mom. Only terribly high and cracked out.__he laughs and hugs me. __ood girl. And wasted. Don__ forget to get really wasted.

For this, for you, my heart will burnIt whispers to me, what I speak now in turn:If the sun should hide, let it hide;If darkness drain the light, on moonbeams we ride.It matters not,For I am by your side.If the sky should fall, let it fall;If Death open his wings, ignore his dark call;Let the stars fade, let worlds collide;Let the seas boil, let chaos hold back the tide.It matters not,For you are by my side.

It__ killing me, baby,_ he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. __t__ killing me because I don__ want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I__ not ready to tell you I__ in love with you, because I__ not. Not yet. But whatever this is I__ feeling__t__ so much more than just like. It__ so much more. And for the past few weeks I__e been trying to figure it out. I__e been trying to figure out why there isn__ some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn__ a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.

My locker seems to have become the hub for sticky notes and nasty letters, none of which I ever see actually being placed on or in my locker. I really don__ get what people gain out of doing things like this if they don__ even own up to it.Like the note that was stuck to my locker this morning. All it said was, __hore.__eally? Where__ the creativity in that? They couldn__ back it up with an interesting story? Maybe a few details of my indiscretion? If I have to read this shit every day, the least they could do is make it interesting. If I was going to stoop so low as to leave an unfounded note on someone__ locker,I__ at least have the courtesy of entertaining whoever reads it in the process. I__ write something interesting like, __ saw you in bed with my boyfriend last night. I really don__ appreciate you getting massage oil on my cucumbers. Whore._ I laugh and it feels odd, laughing out loud at my own thoughts. I look around and no one is left in the hallway but me. Rather than rip the sticky notes off of my locker like I probably should, I take out my pen and make them a little more creative. You__e welcome, passersby.

Whatever connection we thought we had before this...it doesn't compare to this moment. No matter what happens between us in life, this moment has just merged pieces of our souls together. Well always have that, and in a way it's comforting to know.

He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.

We look up, if only to see if we're likely to be rained on. The sky calls attention to itself, whether scored by herons, cranes, or wires; illumined by sunsets, Perseids, or ballparks; broken up by the twigwork of oaks or maples, painted in rainbows, or just primed in the pale gray of my '52 Ford. If we are truthful, the sky is never neutral.

Sky. Hope mixed with horror as I searched for Zed, quessing he would not have let his soulfinder walk into this situation alone. I finally identified him as the heavily bearded drummer in the flowery shirt and, yes, socks and sandals. I bit my tongue, repressing the absurd desire to laugh at his fashion sacrifice for our cause.

Get out of here. Yoda so does not have an English accent!''Other than that you're saying I'm a dead ringer?''If the shoe fits.''Sheesh, I hate tall girls.

I think I'd rather be heading to detention right now than to talk to him. My stomach is tied up in so many knots it could make a boy scout envious.

I can't help but watch his lips as they cover the opening of the bottle that my lips were just touching. We're practically kissing.

There were days so clear and skies so brilliant blue, with white clouds scudding across them like ships under full sail, and she felt she could lift right off the ground. One moment she was ambling down a path, and the next thing she knew, the wind would take hold of her, like a hand pushing against her back. Her feet would start running without her even willing it, even knowing it. And she would run faster and faster across the prairie, until her heart jumped like a rabbit and her breath came in deep gasps and her feet barely skimmed the ground.It felt good to spend herself this way. The air tasted fresh and delicious; it smelled like damp earth, grass, and flowers. And her body felt strong, supple, and hungry for more of everything life could serve up.She ran and felt like one of the animals, as though her feet were growing up out of the earth. And she knew what they knew, that sometimes you ran just because you could, because of the way the rush of air felt on your face and how your legs reached out, eating up longer and longer patches of ground.She ran until the blood pounded in her ears, so loud that she couldn't hear the voices that said, You're not good enough, You're not old enough, You're not beautiful or smart or loveable, and you will always be alone.She ran because there were ghosts chasing her, shadows that pursued her, heartaches she was leaving behind. She was running for her life, and those phantoms couldn't catch her, not here, not anywhere. She would outrun fear and sadness and worry and shame and all those losses that had lined up against her like a column of soldiers with their guns shouldered and ready to fire. If she had to, she would outrun death itself.She would keep on running until she dropped, exhausted. Then she would roll over onto her back and breathe in the endless sky above her, sun glinting off her face.To be an animal, to have a body like this that could taste, see hear, and fly through space, to lie down and smell the earth and feel the heat of the sun on your face was enough for her. She did not need anything else but this: just to be alive, cool air caressing her skin, dreaming of Ivy and what might be ahead.

...That Great Cocktail Cabinet in the Sky...

Breath (from the book Blue Bridge)Whispering to myself With every step I take,Trying out names, for I know There is something yet to be called _..I know it, something up ahead Just around the bendOr over the rise _ A bird taking to the skyFrom the edge of a jagged cliff _ A bird floating outwardsIn silence _. A silence Waiting for a footstepTo crunch on stones, For a voice to fling upwardThrough sharp sunlight With a name_ callingBefore the bird could call Before the bird called.Oh the bird was there alright And sure it took flightWhen it heard me approach But it broke my heartWith a mighty croak!So I__ sitting here playing With a purple flowerSlender stem, no leaves Purple fizz __nd it__ quiet again. I am stillI am nothing And the hillIs a long, long slope Down, down, down to the seaFar below.I could roll I could runI could scream But I am nothing.A cool wind blows And the light is naked and namelessAnd the rocks are faces of angels And the bird in the sky wheelsAnd cries to forget the earth And its ancient bones __h, sensual pain _ Wings_. Wings_. Wings,Singing wings.If only I could begin To describe the emptinessWhich fills me to the brim With new breathI might almost lose my name And take instead a feather for my soul.